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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28907703">Becoming Human</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfkeeper989/pseuds/Wolfkeeper989'>Wolfkeeper989</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Avatar Everybody sort of, Chronic Illness, F/F, F/M, FRIENDSHIP GALORE, Gender Non-Conforming Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Georgie is an Actual Avatar, Hate Crimes, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mystery, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, The End, the fears - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 11:07:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>19,002</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28907703</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfkeeper989/pseuds/Wolfkeeper989</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jonathan Sims' first day as the Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute didn't entail figuring out how to tackle the mess his predecessor had left the archives in as he planned. No, Jon's first day in his new job ended with him in the hospital, well before he could even get started. In his convalescence, voices and images whisper to him, and when he awakes he is plagued by two questions: Who is Jonah? And what dangers does the Magnus Institute truly hide?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Basira Hussain &amp; Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Basira Hussain/Alice "Daisy" Tonner, Georgie Barker &amp; Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Georgie Barker/Melanie King, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Michael Shelley/Tim Stoker, Sasha James &amp; Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Sasha James/Helen Richardson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>77</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello! I have been mainly reading in this fandom for the most part but here is my first written contribution. Thank you so much for reading and feel free to leave comments! As most writers do, I look forward to reading them. This story starts off pretty quick, I hope everyone enjoys it.</p><p>Thank you <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Altered_Karma/pseuds/Altered_Karma">Altered Karma</a> for betaing for me!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Jon’s hands shook slightly as he signed the contract in front of him. Deep down he knew that he was nowhere near qualified for this job and that someone else far more skilled was being deliberately overlooked. But he felt helpless to do anything about it. Elias wouldn’t let it go, so… he signed. However, he had managed to wrangle assistant spots for Sasha and Tim earlier in the process. He was hoping that with their skills, he wouldn’t muck it up too badly. Elias had mentioned that he had found a third assistant for him, so that was one less thing to worry about. Apparently, the man he had found was also </span>
  <em>
    <span>far</span>
  </em>
  <span> more suited to this position than Jon was and that made him feel even worse.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, Jonathan, I think you should head home and get your rest… your first day begins tomorrow, dear Archivist.” Elias said pleasantly, although the gleam in his eyes made something unpleasant slide down his spine and settle uncomfortably in his stomach. Jon made to leave, but a call from Elias made him stop. “You almost forgot your keys.” He picked them up off the desk and held them out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon took them with a stiff nod. He made his way down the stairs, various thoughts swimming around in his head. What would Tim and Sasha do tomorrow? What would the mysterious Mr. Blackwood be like? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By the time he had made it to the tube and home, he was far too mentally and physically exhausted to bother cooking and threw himself into bed, although part of him knew that the last thing he should do was skip meals. Unfortunately, Jon was far too keyed up for rest to find him easily. Between the pain and tension in his body and anxiety flare ups, Jon would be lucky if he managed a few hours of sleep. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thankfully, he eventually nodded off, but he jerked awake from a nightmare, a scream dying on his lips some time later. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The world spun violently. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He tried to scramble from the bed and ended up collapsing into a heap next to it. He moaned an incoherent curse at the pain. His limbs felt uncoordinated and unwieldy. He eventually made it to shaking hands and knees. He took deep rasping breaths as he gripped the bed and hauled himself to his feet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Swaying dizzily for a moment, Jon fought to stay upright. Once his head stopped spinning, he stumbled towards the bathroom. He hissed as his palm made contact with the moulding around the bathroom door, but better than his head— it was already pounding. His vision was blurry and the room was still rocking slightly. He entered the room, fumbling for a light switch. The longer he took to find it the thicker his anxiety grew. When light suddenly flooded the room, Jon’s released his held breath. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He clumsily turned on the faucet. The sound of the water pouring into the sink was helpful in banishing the static from Jon’s ears. Jon gathered some water in his hands and splashed his face with it. The brisk chill seemed to snap whatever had been rattled loose by his nightmare back into place. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The world around him was still fuzzy around the edges. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right, glasses,” he muttered, wincing at how loud his voice was in the empty room. He shuffled from the room. He managed to locate them on his nightstand thanks to the weak rays of light from the bathroom. He shoved them on his face and the world came into focus, Jon blinked at the offensively bright numbers on the alarm clock.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>6:00.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He moaned. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was going to be one of his long days. Between getting his body to just function and a sleep depraved mind that was full of anxious bees, he was despairing at the thought of getting anything done. It was partially his own fault for skipping dinner the other night. He struggled through a shower, trying to resist the urge to curl up under the spray and stay there. Time seemed to crawl as he struggled to dress in a fog. Jon finally left his apartment and only remembered that he hadn’t eaten when a wave of nausea and dizziness nealy sent him to the floor of the tube he had just managed to catch. He got some fruit and coffee at a cafe near the Institute. After practically inhaling his food, his stomach was going to hate him for that as well, he finally made it to the Archives early. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon was hoping that there were few people in the building, if anyone at all. He wouldn’t have to pretend that he was fine, when he was barely functioning. His vision was still swimming even with his glasses. His limbs were still shaking from the walk over. Jon entertained the notion of maybe sitting down in Gertrude's— his office and taking a load off for a bit. No one would see. But the anxiety induced nagging in his brain refused to let him forget how much needed to be done to get the Archives back into shape. It rattled on about he was going to have to move all the boxes out of Gretrude’s office, go through said boxes, direct everyone else as they go through </span>
  <em>
    <span>more </span>
  </em>
  <span>boxes. Jon finally gave in and decided that he may as well make the most of the time. A quick glance at his watch told him it was a quarter to eight and it would probably be half-past eight or nine before anyone else showed up. </span>
  <span></span><br/>
<span><br/>
</span>
  <span>As he made his way further into the Institute, something made him stop before the door to the Archives. When he had passed the empty receptionist desk where Rosie usually sat, a shiver of unease went down his spine. Jon fought against his crawling skin and resisted the urge to look for the stare that seemed to bare down on him suddenly, becoming irritated at his ridiculous dithering. He took the keys from his pocket and unlocked the heavy door. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He reached out for the light switch as he stepped through. Finally, his fingers caught on plastic and he flipped the switch. Jon had to blink against the sudden onslaught of light. Once his eyes adjusted, he took stock of the department. In the open entrance there was a set of office cubicles, tucked together to make a cube. There were half dividers between them, and each desk had a computer on it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon descended the last of the stairs and moved closer to the work area. His lips pulled into a grimace as he noted that the computers were woefully out of date. They were usable certainly, but in order to digitize the archives like Elias wanted him to, it was going to take a lot of creative thinking and diligent work. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon resolved to get with Sasha about how to work this whole thing. If anyone knew how to get better equipment and start restructuring the Archives, she would. Jon tried to ignore the way his stomach twisted painfully at the thought that she might not be willing. He wouldn’t hold it against her— </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The hair on the back of Jon’s neck stood up again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He whirled around to find no one there. But Jon could feel eyes on him, baring down like gravity itself. It pushed down on his lungs, and Jon felt his throat close up. Wheezing he stumbled back into the desk, before slumping to the floor. His chest fluttered weakly as he tried to draw air in. He tried to scream, but all he could manage was a whimper. Was he having a heart attack? Had Tim been right in saying that he would worry himself to death? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Please, please… I don’t want to die like this. Not after surviving </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>that</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As he lay on the floor slowly suffocating, all of his regrets floated in front of his eyes. He should have been more willing to fight against his bad habits for Georgie… he should have spent more time with his grandmother after he moved out…. He should have started that band, accepted Tim and Sasha’s attempts at friendship when he started working here… </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“P-p-please… h-help…” He whispered, desperate.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The only response he got was a wave of hot… anger? </span>
  <span>Sweat began trickling down the back of his neck, face, and spine, leaving trails of disgusting wetness in its wake, as the rage of whatever </span>
  <em>
    <span>thing</span>
  </em>
  <span> hovered above him sizzled and burned. It etched itself into his skin so firmly that Jon wondered if the wrath had burned its way into his very soul. Jon felt, in a distant, trapped sort of way, a soundless scream rip its way out of his throat as his whole body began blistering under the onslaught. Shivers trembled up and down his spine, though from the searing pain or ruinous terror he couldn't say. He felt curiously aware of the way that each lump in his spine clacked into the other in his fear. It felt like he was being crushed under the scorn of the entity above him. It made him feel smaller than normal, like he had under the judgmental and exasperated eyes of his teachers, or the tender mercies of a childhood bully long consumed by spiders.</span>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon's eyes flitted from one place to another as he tried in vain to see what was attacking him, even as his vision began to blur. Slowly, helplessness began to worm its way through his head, his will to fight slowly began to ebb away. What could he do, really? His fingers were going numb, his arms tingling as they slowly succumbed to the same numbness. All of his limbs were slowly evaporating into thin air as if the heat was vaporizing them. Fighting back seemed pointless.   </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Whatever was attacking him, seemed to notice his weakness… its rage turning into sickening triumph. Then it seemed to speak, or rather Jon’s fuzzy mind managed to get the impression of what it would have said if it could talk. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>This pathetic creature</span>
  </em>
  <span> is what you wanted, Jonah? This pathetic thing is your precious </span>
  <em>
    <span>Archivist</span>
  </em>
  <span>?! No matter. All the more easier for me to kill… and kill him, I shall…” hissed the entity. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-” Jon tried to choke out ‘I don’t know who you are talking about’, to plead his innocence. But Jon’s throat closed as he felt the creature’s scrutiny wrap around it. It dug into his skin worming its way through his body, his </span>
  <em>
    <span>soul</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Whatever this was raked through him until it craved every single bit of him out… knew him down to his most intimate parts</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>… and found him wanting. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You may not </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> Jonah… you’re another pawn in his plan, but you are no innocent… “ it chided, and it’s voice resolved into something sickeningly sweet and utterly intolerable; like listening to a disaster, helpless to stop it and hopeless to tune it out. “You took that job knowing it was not meant for you. Even now you lament it, squirming like a guilty child with his hand caught in the sweets jar. At least Gertrude had the gumption to face what she was at the bitter end. Pity she did not succeed in burning this wretched hovel.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He could not argue against any of its accusations, for they were all true. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Was this what caused Gertrude’s disappearance? Did it slowly try to burn her to ashes like it was doing to him? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Tears slowly fell from Jon’s eyes as he pondered the idea that he might be face to face with whatever had claimed Gertrude. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I— sorry, Sasha— ” he rasped. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sasha can have the job! I’ll resign! </span>
  </em>
  <span>He cried mentally. He could feel the entity shaking its head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You already signed your life away to him. It’s why you must die,” they said. </span>
  <span>Was Jon's panicking brain looking for things that simply weren't there, or did he hear a hint of sympathy and pity in his attacker's voice?</span>
  <span> “Humans are so easily distracted, fragile… finite. They only realize how much of their lives they have wasted when The End is dangled before them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon’s heart plummeted. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before he could protest, he was lifted off of the floor by still unseen hands. The vice around his chest and throat tightened. He wheezed, tears still streaming, and he was suddenly acutely aware that he was probably taking his last breaths. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon felt the scorching, molten energy that had drowned his bones and fused with his soul reach a fever pitch. It started in his throat, where he was held aloft, and though he was already having trouble breathing, what little he had left turned to open flame in his lungs, charring and blackening him like a thousand cigarettes had never managed. Molten lava poured into his chest, and ran him through his core down to the very end of him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had never wondered what it might be like to be consumed by fire, and now all he would remember is this inferno that was eating him alive. His mind scrambled to distract him from the coming end by forcing memory after memory across his mind’s eye. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The precious few he had of his parents.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sorry.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The life changing moment when his bully had been eaten by a Spider that had been meant for him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sorry. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His first and only real friends in uni… grinning together in their ridiculous costumes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sorry.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His grandmother’s proud smirk as she clapped him on the shoulder at graduation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sorry...</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Georgie…grinning mischievously even as her eyes glowed with love.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sorry…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tim laughing at his own antics, while Sasha rolled her eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sorry so sorry... </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had so many people that he owed apologies to. Some many days left to live, especially after narrowly avoiding death back in uni. He had fallen into a deep depression wanting to hide from the world hoping that the world would leave him alone. After all, standing out back then had nearly gotten him killed. But now that his back was against the metaphorical wall again, despite playing small and staying out of the way, a fierce blaze of his own making flared in his chest. Frustrated helplessness was its kindling. Fuck what the world wanted, if it wanted him dead… it was going to have to damn sure work for it. Jon was not going to waste another moment ever again, it would take time but he was going to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>present</span>
  </em>
  <span> in his life again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So he fought, mentally and physically grasping at anything and everything he could, trying to claw his way out of death’s clutches again. The pain intensified but he did not give in. He pushed against the invading energy. He pushed with everything in him. He would have wailed at the agony if he could, but he couldn’t. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The metaphysical game of tug-o-war continued until... </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>...the rope snapped. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon felt himself plummet to towards the Archive floor— </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His eyes flew open as he choked on air. He coughed roughly, pain flaring in his chest. He tried to sit up, but a warm gentle hand guided him back down. He struggled slightly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shhh… hey… it’s ok. Just relax,” soothed an unfamiliar voice. “Can you tell me your name?” It was soft and sweet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon coughed as relief flooded his veins. Someone— Someone had </span>
  <em>
    <span>heard</span>
  </em>
  <span> him this time. He dragged his eyes up to stare at the person leaning over him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They had beautiful hazel eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After a moment, he managed to croak, </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“J-jon.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hi Jon,” the person replied softly. “My name is Martin and I had to give you CPR. But, an ambulance is on the way. You are going to be fine.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An ambulance? Why not the police? Where was the assailant? But between the pounding in his head and the fire in his chest, he couldn’t articulate much else aside from speaking his name earlier. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There came the sound of footsteps before twin gasps of horror.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jon!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who the hell are you?” Jon knew those voices. Sasha and Tim. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“W-wait a m-minute! He w-was unconscious when I got here!” protested Martin. The footsteps came closer. “I got no response so I started CPR. He just came around.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon’s eyes started to slide shut as weariness set in and his mind began to drift. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey! Jon!” Tim called. He sounded odd, like he was worried. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah…” Jon slurred. He was so tired. God, his chest hurt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jon, stay awake, I know it’s hard… but you need to stay awake.” Sasha said from the other side. Jon tried to answer but he could only sigh before consciousness slipped away. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Well it seems that Jon is not the <i>only</i> one having a weird first day at work!</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello! Thanks for the warm reception! This is about a day or two late because life happened. But here is Chapter 2 as promised! Hello! Thank you so much for the kudos and comments! Please keep them coming! Thank you <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Altered_Karma/pseuds/Altered_Karma">Altered Karma</a> for betaing for me! Also check out their stuff!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Martin was certain that this was not how most people’s jobs start. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had planned to come in early, show some initiative, make a good first impression, maybe familiarize himself with the Archives so he didn’t make a </span>
  <em>
    <span>total</span>
  </em>
  <span> fool of himself. He had run into the receptionist, Rosie, as he was climbing the steps into the Institute. She had been sweet and pleasant as always,  congratulating him on his transfer and wishing him luck. As he was waiting for her to get settled into her desk so he could ask her about his new space and co-workers and get a feel for his new job, seeing as he had never had reason to visit the Archives previously, there came the sound of something falling. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What was that?” he had squeaked. He wasn’t completely unaware of what the Magnus Institute was formed for. He knew that there were just as many wild stories coming out of the Institute as there were going in. So, Martin felt that his nervousness was warranted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rosie had turned to stare suspiciously at a door that he hadn’t been paying any real attention to. Looking at it now, Martin saw that it was open a quarter of the way and light was pouring from it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Now, why would anyone in their right mind be in the Archives this early?” she muttered to herself. Martin watched her consider the door, before a look of realization crossed her face, and her furrowed brow smoothed out once more. She shook her head wryly at Martin, and suddenly he felt as though he was being told an inside joke he had never learned the punchline to. “Of course, I should have known better. Jonathan got moved to the Archives as well.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Martin blinked and then deliberately focused on lowering his shoulders, which had climbed up to near his ears during his absentminded terror. That was all? A colleague who’d arrived early, fumbling around in the Archives? He sometimes wondered at his own jumpiness, foolish thing that he was.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh! I thought I was here early. Well, it will make this a bit less awkward, I guess,” he said aloud. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Or it could make this all the more awkward. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He tried to shake the morose cast from his thoughts; no sense in psyching himself out before he could make a proper fool of himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Jonathan is a notorious workaholic. But you are welcome to go on in, Martin. He will probably need a man of your stature to help, whether he likes it or not.” she said primly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Whatever could that mean</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thought as he was ushered through the door. As he descended further into the depths of the Institute— there must not be any windows down here, and Martin mourned the lack of natural lighting already— </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He froze on the landing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Near a block of workstations, a person lay collapsed. The noise from earlier came to his mind, and he drew in a hissing breath. He spent one moment, then two, just staring at the body, before his CPR training kicked in. He yelled up the stairs for Rosie to call for an ambulance and took off down the few steps. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Martin skidded onto his knees next to the body, frantically trying to recall the first steps in dealing with a potentially injured and unconscious person. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>First, scan them for noticeable injuries. The first thing he noticed was how small and thin they were, and suddenly Rosie’s comment about his stature made far more sense. So this was Jonathan?</span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>There were no obvious injuries that he could see, but the wealth of dark hair haloed around their head did not make spotting any head injuries easy, though he hoped that the lack of blood pooling beneath Jonathan was at least a good sign. He swept the hair away from where he thought their face was, hoping that he’d find some indication of what was wrong with them. The dark circles around their eyes hinted to Martin that whatever else was wrong, this Jonathan wasn’t nearly well enough to be here. He tore his gaze away</span> <span>and continued to scan for any sign of blood.</span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hello, can you hear me?” They did not stir. Okay, next step. He placed his hand in front of their mouth and nose.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nothing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He felt for a pulse.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Nothing</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Martin muttered as he gently cradled the person’s head and neck as he rolled them over onto their back and started CPR. His mind was narrowed down to numbers and air. As he started his third round of compressions, he heard a rapid set of popping noises and winced. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit! I probably broke something. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It’s not really a surprise, given how small this Jonathan was, but even though he knew it was a part of the risk with CPR he still felt bad.  He was wary of hurting them further, but continued to perform as he had been taught. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After another two stressful, protracted rounds, finally, something seemed to work; the person began coughing violently, body twitching and attempting to curl in on themself. Martin had to stop them before they could do even more damage. They then tried to drag themself upright and Martin stopped them quickly with a hand on their shoulder. For a moment, it looked like they wanted to struggle further, but for some reason they eventually relaxed.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shhh… hey… it’s ok. Just relax,” Martin said. “Can you tell me your name?” He had them figured for Jonathan, but anything to ground them would be good. They hacked weakly, their eyes rolling in their sockets. Then two pale green eyes latched onto his. Martin’s brain ground to a halt, trapped in the intensity of their gaze. They wet their lips with a quick dart of tongue, before offering up an arid,</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“J-Jon,” Oh, so this </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> the Jonathan that Rosie had been speaking of. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hi Jon,” he replied softly. “My name is Martin and I had to give you CPR. An ambulance is on the way. You are going to be fine.” He continued, going through the little spiel that they had been taught to use with patients. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A few moments later, there was a group of voices coming from behind him, echoing down the stairwell. Martin turned hoping to see that the medical team had arrived. Instead there was a man about the same height as him with black hair and a glare on his face. Next to him was a young woman about an inch shorter than Martin with brunette hair and dark eyes. Her face was twisted in concern. Neither of them were wearing anything that looked like a medical uniform. They must be co-workers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jon!” the woman called out as the man stalked down the steps towards them.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who the hell are you?” he snarled, looking like he was seconds away from decking Martin. Martin realized what the situation looked like. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“W-wait a m-minute! He w-was unconscious when I got here!” cried Martin. The man came closer, but didn’t look like he wanted to hit him anymore.  “I got no response, so I started CPR. He just came around.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A cough brought his attention back to the prone form lying on the ground, his heart jolting when he saw his eyes beginning to lose focus and flutter shut once more. Martin felt the panic that had drained from his system wash over him like a returning wave. He beat it back; if Jon fell unconscious again there’d be bigger problems than his own anxiety. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey! Jon!” The dark haired man cried, panicked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah…” Jon slurred. Martin was surprised to get a response as it was clear they were losing them again. The young woman dropped to her knees on the other side of Jon between him and the workstation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jon, stay awake, I know it’s hard… but you need to stay awake.” she pleaded. Jon tried to say something else, but his eyes rolled into his head as he fell unconscious again. Martin felt for a pulse, thankfully there but weak and thready and definitely still dangerously slow. He checked Jon’s breathing, and was relieved to feel the soft brush of air against his hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Martin was about to move Jon into the recovery position, when he heard Rosie’s voice, “Martin! The medics are here!” He looked up and saw two paramedics guiding a stretcher down the Archive steps. He moved away, letting medics take his place. One of them fired off various questions about Jon’s condition while their partner assessed him. Martin answered what he could truthfully. When they asked for personal information, Martin stumbled, he looked at the two other people for help and the young man spoke up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hi, the name’s Tim Stoker. Jon’s technically my boss, but we have worked here together for a while. I know most of his information. Mr.--?” Martin blinked as the man— Tim— turned back to him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh, Martin. Martin Blackwood,” he gulped. All eyes are on him now and his anxiety is sitting tall and proud at the attention. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right, Mr. Blackwood here is a new hire. He must have come in early and found Jon.” Tim continued. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m CPR certified, so I tried to help,” Martin explained. Tim nodded at that before answering the medic’s questions. Martin withdrew to a spot further from the chaos. </span>
  <em>
    <span>In through the nose, out through the mouth… </span>
  </em>
  <span>Martin fought to keep his panic at bay. He had managed to just keep it together while he was working on Jon, but now the adrenaline had worn off. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He could have made things </span>
  <em>
    <span>worse</span>
  </em>
  <span>… </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He probably </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>make things worse. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sound of something popping as he worked earlier, echoed loudly in his head. Tears began gathering at the corners of his eyes, as if his head was too full of static and the excess had to go somewhere. He took in another shaky breath and held it, before letting it out again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“--wood. Mr. Blackwood,” Martin turned to see the young woman looking at him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I— yes! Hello…”  He stammered, while having the hysterical thought that she looked like Daphne Blake if she had Velma’s coloring and glasses, except for the eyes, of course. He could tell they were still green, a nice deep green like an emerald; nothing like the pale hiddenite of Jon’s eyes. His brain offered up the fact that the gem hiddenite itself was known for its fragility when attempting to cut it. Martin thought it was rather fitting given how fragile and thin Jon had looked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bit of a crazy first day, huh?” she offered with a strained smile on her face. He nodded, suddenly finding his voice all but robbed from him. “I’m Sasha James, by the way.” Yes, he remembered being told that he would have two other assistant co-workers. So, this was Tim Stoker and Sasha James. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“... yeah,” he managed to wheeze. He really needed air. The building was suddenly far too stifling. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, for helping Jon. I just still can’t believe that he would collapse like that… I mean, I know he’s been stressed, but I didn’t think it was this bad….” she rambled to herself, not letting Martin get a word in edgewise. But that was ok, he probably wouldn’t have known what to say anyway. His mind was still preoccupied with broadcasting the panic attack he had been suppressing while he gave Jon CPR. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ms. James, Mr. Blackwood!” called an imperious voice. Martin looked back to the entrance to see the tail end of the stretcher being pulled through the door, while Tim followed along behind the paramedic as they climbed the short flight of steps. However, coming towards him and Sasha was a man of average height and what Martin would guess was an average build and looks, too. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hello Elias… some start to the week,” Sasha called back. Martin stiffened when he remembered that this was the head of the Institute and the man who had hired him. Martin had always gotten the creeps around him, like he knew all of Martin’s dirty secrets. He did not like it one bit. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Indeed, would one of you please explain what happened, since we’ve barely even opened for the day? I find it remarkable that Jon has already found some spot of trouble to get into. ” the man asked. Martin felt his mouth fall open. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-I w-wanted to get here e-early. Make a good first impression, y’know? I met Rosie on the way in, we talked. I noticed the door was open. She mentioned that Jon had probably come in early. Said he was a workaholic… I found him lying over there, out cold.” he said pointing to the work area. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, we came in about 15 minutes ago,” continued Sasha. Martin blinked at that. It had only been that long? This whole ordeal felt longer than that. “Rosie was in quite a state. She babbled something about an ambulance and the Archives. When we went to look, Mr. Blackwood here was crouched over Jon. Tim assumed that he had been harming Jon, though we soon learned that he was giving Jon CPR.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Elias gave them both a look over.     </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I see. Well, firstly, I want to thank you for looking after our Archivist. That would have been a disaster, we have enough feed for the rumor mill on a regular basis.” Elias said, his tone making Martin’s hackles raise a bit. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course, I would do it for anyone, really,” he replied tensely. Why did this man bother him so?</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Ms. James, I am going to appoint you as Jon’s replacement until he has recovered. We don’t want things to get any further behind.” said Elias dismissively as he turned to leave. Both he and Sasha blinked at the abrupt departure. “Also, inform Mr. Stoker that as soon as Jon is deemed stable, he is to return to the Archives to help you plan.” Without further ado, he strode with purpose off through the Archives, seemingly indifferent to the suffering and trauma his staff had just been though.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> was what was setting Martin off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What a prick,” Martin muttered as soon as the door closed behind the Institute Head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right…” Sasha grumbled. “Well. I refuse to play his game. But I won’t cause Jon any extra stress, either. Let’s get to work, Mr. Blackwood.” Games? What games? After a moment, Martin shook himself from his recent stupor and nodded. Maybe he was right to feel put off by Elias, clearly Sasha was. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Please, you can call me Martin,” he said softly. She smiled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right. Well then, call me Sasha,” she replied.     </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jon wakes up and Sasha decides to have a chat.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello! Sorry about the late post. I kept forgetting. Thank you so much for the kudos and comments! Please keep them coming! Thank you <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Altered_Karma/pseuds/Altered_Karma">Altered Karma</a> for betaing for me!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Jon became conscious in parts. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A scent here, the feel of coarse sheets there. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even the occasional voice. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then all at once he was awake, though his eyes remained closed. The first thing he noticed was a dull ache in his chest. The next thing was how dry his throat was. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What? Where? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon pried his eyes open and blinked against the harsh light. What had happened? He looked around slowly. The walls were a dreary off white and the light was an even harsher one. He could make out cabinets and a heavy door. There was someone sitting in a chair nearby, but without his glasses he was having a rough time making out who it was. He tried to shift to a better angle, but the pain lancing all the way down his ribcage stopped him cold; choking on the pain, he let his body relax and took slow shallow breaths. Anything deeper felt like it would ignite the leftover embers in his bones. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wha-?” came from the chair. Jon peeled his eyes open again to see someone unfurl from the chair and make their way to the bed. They seemed to shuffle in place a moment, before he felt something cold being slid on his face. He eyesight slowly resolved itself to the image of—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Georgie?” He winced at how arid and weak his voice sounded. She gave him a relieved smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good lord, Jon,” she tutted,” I was wondering when you would come around.” Jon searched his mind trying to determine why Georgie Barker of all people was in what he was guessing was his hospital room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why are you here?” he asked, frowning slightly. He had meant to ask what had happened, but the other question had slipped out in its place. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, apparently, I am still listed as one of your emergency contacts. They called me after they called your gran, and she mentioned that it would take her a bit to get to London. She mentioned that I was possibly closer and that I was probably on the list. So, here I am. She should be here tomorrow,” Georgie said offhandedly, blinking. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon could only stare for a moment. For some reason, it felt like if he looked away she would disappear. She looked just about the same as she did the last time they had spoken, before the attack, his waking up, and the University kicking him out. However, it also looked like time had aged her in a way that he couldn’t identify at that moment. She seemed to be taking him in as well, her eyes busy scanning him. He found himself wanting to hide from her gaze, lest she see what a wretched shell of a person he had become. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-I’m—  I—” he coughed violently, as the air passing over his parched throat made him gag. He moaned in between each one as every spasm of his diaphragm sent pain flying through his chest. Panic began to build in his mind. Why did his chest hurt? Had it happened again? Oh no, wait… what day was it? Had he been hurt on  the way to the Institute? What—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jon, here, calm down,” Georgie said softly as she brought a cup to his lips. Jon mentally steadied himself enough to slowly sip on the water. So, he was no longer in any danger, but he had no memory of how he got here or why Georgie was. He focused on the cool water sliding down his arid and aching throat, letting the lingering anxiety dissipate. Georgie’s presence also helped to calm him down a great deal, though it did not lessen his confusion. Once he had to take a breath, he stopped and Georgie sat the cup out of the way.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I— was surprised— to see you, G,” he finally explained, his old nickname for her slipping from his lips easily. It felt odd that it came out, given the abrupt end to their relationship with the uni attack and his subsequent removal from his collegiate life.  Her face softened. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I bet you were,” she hummed. “You are going to be seeing a lot more of me, too.” Jon’s face twisted in confusion even as his body began to grow weary. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why?” he managed to rasp. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’ll know soon enough,” she said softly, “I’m gonna go find the doctor.” He tried to call for her to come back and explain what she meant, but his chest decided to spasm in that moment and pain robbed him of his voice. Once the spasm subsided, he felt a larger wave of exhaustion submerge him. He tried to fight the pull, but the tide was too strong. His vision faded as his consciousness floated away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon came around again, gasping from the lingering terror of an already forgotten nightmare.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was the sound of shoes tapping on linoleum before, once again he felt his glasses being placed on his face. This time when he opened his eyes, it was his grandmother standing over him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ama?” he croaked. She stared down at him with eyes identical to his own. They were as sharp as ever, even if the skin around them was soft and wrinkled with age. She combed his hair away from his face, a glint of relief shining in her gaze. Her hands felt so soothing after the turmoil he had suffered. His mind had been throwing random images at him as he unwillingly slept. He was trying to piece his memories together but they continued to slip through his fingers like sand, a growl of frustration started to rattle his chest, but was quickly muzzled by pain. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jon…” she sighed. “You promised you would be careful!” Jon felt himself flush despite his weakness. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-I was! I just—” Jon paused, not quite sure what to say. He still hadn't quite gathered what happened to him, and his head was still atrociously fuzzy. “I mean… as far as I know I was being careful, Ama… honest.” She sighed fondly, her eyes rolling heavenward. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“For such a smart boy, your definition of careful needs work,” she chided. Jon felt his cheeks heat even more. “The doctors needed to give you a blood transfusion! Your iron counts were abysmal! The rest of your work up was a mess, Jon! You’re skin and bones! No wonder you collapsed at work!” Jon’s mind laser focused on the last part. His heart seized in his chest and his fingers went numb as ice glided down his spine. Suddenly, he knew without a doubt that he hadn't simply </span>
  <em>
    <span>collapsed</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he knew it as well as he knew his own name. He just couldn’t recall what else it could have been. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jon!” Jon snapped his attention back to his grandmother, who was looking far more concerned. “Maybe you should rest more…” She patted his cheek tenderly. Jon resisted the urge to lean into the comfort. He had already caused her so much trouble.‥</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where did Georgie go?” he finally asked as she pulled away. He vaguely remembered talking to her. Or had that been a dream?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She went home a bit ago once I got here. But she's been here for the last two days checking on you.” Two days?!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Two days?! Elias— owww! Elias is going to have my head— Da-Fu— God! I'm supposed— ah!” Jon yelped,</span>
  <span> his hand flying to his chest, which was suddenly, horribly painful from the abrupt attempt to flee the hospital for work. The work he abandoned on the first day, no less! He couldn’t even be sure he still had a job. </span>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, at least we know Jon is coherent now,” Jon slowly turned his head towards the door, arm still clutching at his chest, as he allowed his grandmother to push him back down on the bed. Standing there with a strained grin on his face was Tim, a rather downcast Sasha, and a nervous looking fellow that Jon did not know. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon watched them all, trying to gauge what their thoughts were, as they shuffled into the room, shutting the door behind them. Did they think he was too frail to continue with his job? He wouldn’t be surprised. But there seemed to be no real judgement in their gazes, try though he might to find any. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sasha, soft and concerned— </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tim, trying to seem casual, but clearly worried— </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And the new person… looked overwhelmed or agitated, if Jon had to guess. Their hazel eyes did spark a feeling of familiarity. He seemed to notice Jon staring, because his cheeks turned the color of a pale pink rose and he immediately started studying his feet. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tim seemed to notice his curiosity and said, “By the way, this is Martin Blackwood! He’s a transfer from the library upstairs. He also saved your life!” Tim tugged the man forward, strong enough that the ma— Martin, had to look up from his feet to keep his balance. Their eyes met, and despite being the tallest person in the room, Martin seemed the most intimidated… if the immediate lowering of his eyes was any indication.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-I see. Um, thank you, Mr. Blackwood.” Jon said stiffly to chestnut curls. Suddenly, he found himself pinned by twin agates, and the only thing that Jon could think was: </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>warm</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Everything about the man standing before him was warm, from the tones of his natural coloring to the way he hesitantly watched Jon from beneath his lashes. His eyes were a toasty hazel, more brown than green. The subtle red highlights in his chestnut curls stood out against his skin. The dermis was a soft shade of clay… sand… olive… </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> earthy and sunkissed that Jon, for all of his ironic schooling, didn't have the words for</span>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-It w-was no, no problem, Jon! I mean, Tim said it was ok to call you that, uh,” Martin babbled. Usually Jon wanted people to get to the point of what they’re saying, but for some reason he doesn’t actually mind Martin’s fumbling attempts at speech. Maybe it was an unanticipated surge of patience for the man who he owed his life, or maybe the warmth that emanated from him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jon is fine, Mr. Blackwood. I— ” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Martin. I-I mean, Martin is fine. Sorry,” Martin said, eyes falling to the floor again. Jon huffed at being cut off. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine, Martin. I do wish we had met under more professional circumstances. However, things being what they are— ” Jon pointedly ignored Tim’s eye rolling. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know what you are about to say Jon and the answer is no. You need to get better first. Just know that things are under control in the Archives.” said Georgie, startling everyone in the room. Jon jerked to stare her down, wincing as the pain flared again. Tim whirled around to throw the glare he couldn’t at Georgie. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“--The hell’d you get here?!” gasped Tim. Martin yelped and stumbled away from the group. Sasha fumbled with her glasses as they were thrown from her face when she flinched, before quickly rearranging them on her nose. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been right behind you the whole time, none of you were paying any attention.” she said with a shrug. “Anyway, Jon don’t worry, Sasha here is acting in your stead until you are ready to return to work, so I’ve been told.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon opened his mouth to protest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who decided—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, Jon. The doctors are not going to let you leave for several more days. They need to figure out what caused you to collapse. Then once they do I am going to make sure you get some rest and heal up before you go terrorizing your coworkers at work.” Georgie said placidly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon bristled at her tone, his anxiety over falling behind turning to irritation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ugh, taking over my life again, Georgie?” He spat.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Their relationship had been somewhat rocky before the attack in uni and they had been trying to work through it. Both of them in love but stubborn, unwilling to bend where necessary. Then the attack happened and their relationship had been literally ripped apart without closure. So, it seemed that the other emotional injuries and defensive habits still lingered within him. Their interactions with one another stuck back in his old life, before death had tried to claim him. The two of them pitted against one another, with Georgie once again doing her best to reach out to him on one side and him on the other, snarling like a wounded and cornered animal. At that thought, he stopped. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She had come all the way to the hospital to see about him and he was complaining. His pride always preceded his greatest embarrassments and falls. Jon never seemed to learn from them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If that is what it comes to, Jon. Given the circumstances, it may be necessary as it seems you are completely pants at it,” she shot back. Tim snickered, the cautious smile on his face growing wider. Jon huffed and crossed his arms, dignity insulted. Yes, he was willing to admit he was a disaster at times, she didn’t need to say it. He opened his mouth to snipe back at the accusation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Really, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jonathan</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” huffed his grandmother in a warning tone. Jon’s mouth clicked shut. He sighed and uncrossed his arms, letting the scowl drop. After another pointed sigh from Ama,  he muttered an apology. As much as he hated to admit it, Georgie had a point at the moment. He had collapsed in the Archives, though he swore had gone home and went to sleep early. His body had always been fickle given his condition. He had not been quite as sturdy after the first attack years ago. That tended to happen when you lose pieces of your organs. So as irritating of a set back as this was, he was going to have to wait out his body’s tantrum. But at the same time, the panic of falling behind was already driving him mad. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fine, just k-keep me informed, please,” he ended up saying. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Georgie sighed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fine, but no more than an hour long phone call in the morning and one in the afternoon…” Jon wanted to protest, but with his grandmother standing nearby, he let it go. He relaxed further into the bed, his head feeling heavy and a sigh of frustration on his lips; Jon had just woken up and all he wanted to do was sleep again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He let his mind drift as the others talked around him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It seemed all too quickly that Jon was waking up again. The room was dark and quiet. He must have slept through the afternoon again. He was still far too tired to be frustrated on how weak he still felt. That did not stop his curiosity over the incident any, if anything it made it worse. He still recalled everything that happened before he got to the institute clearly. He had gone home early the day before he was attacked. He had slept almost 6 hours, it wasn’t great sleep but he had gotten some. So why had he collapsed? It had been at least 2 days, 3 at most, since he had been brought into the hospital.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In that timeframe, the doctors still couldn’t really figure it out. That or the doctors had an idea but they refused to say it aloud. Jon was not sure what scared him more. He sighed as he stared at the ceiling, deciding it was better to dwell on something else for the time being. Of course, his mind readily went to work. Anything else he would have bothered to think about was mired in guilt and/or PTSD, most of the time both. According to Georgie, Elias had bumped Sasha up to being his replacement until he was well enough to take back over the responsibilities. Honestly, he was not too bothered by that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sasha was intelligent and organized, she would have no trouble starting on the work. But Jon was curious as to why Elias would finally put her in the position she was owed, only after Jon almost croaked? It made no sense. After all, he told Jon that Sasha was too familiar with Gertrude and that he wanted to take the Archives in a new direction. Why Sasha then? Why not have Tim take over? Tim worked in publishing, he would have at least had some idea how to categorize statements. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He frowned. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Was it because Tim had ridden with him to the hospital?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon recalled hearing that Tim had gone with him once the paramedics arrived. But that still didn’t make any sense. Why not send Sasha and— Martin, that was it. Why not send Sasha and Martin home for the day and have Tim start the day after? It just seemed so out of character, especially after he hounded Jon for so long. Well, there was no use dwelling on it anymore as neither Sasha nor Elias were not even here. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Honestly, he was more concerned about his memory loss.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon could not recall exactly what happened to him in the Archives. He had been trying to remember details during his few bouts of unoccupied consciousness, but all that would come to mind was fear, pain, and regret. The events beforehand were crystal clear. His waking up sick and dreading the coming day. The quick breakfast before entering the building, he remembered that it was empty as he had hoped. But anything after opening the door to the Archives was absent. Well, not absent, tarnished might be a better word. He was almost certain he may have dreamed about it. Fleeting thoughts melded into intense emotions, a kaleidoscope of mental outputs that seemed contradictory at best. Fuzzy, twisting images that he could not make sense of. All of this tied together by a current of fear so deep it made his bones shiver.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He could see why they thought he collapsed. Any poor circulation issues or poor nutrient processing can lead to collapsing. Given the loss of part of his stomach and liver along with 75% kidney function due to injury… it was not an unsubstantiated thought process. Many episodes of fainting could be preceded by hallucinations of the visual and auditory nature, loss of limb control, and panic. Resulting head injuries, like his concussion, could easily be to blame for his memory loss. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But that did nothing to settle that certainty that he had been attacked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, the door handle clicked, drawing Jon from his head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon froze in the bed, while his heart raced for cover. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Was someone coming back to finish the job? He shook off the rather irrational train of thought. It was probably just the nurse. The door opened and a person stepped in, walking into the soft halo of light around his bed as the door clicked shut. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon was wrong. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t a nurse, but Sasha, approaching him in the middle of the night. Why was she here?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you’re awake…” she laughed hollowly, “even when you’re bed bound, you refuse to sleep. Typical Jon…” Jon frowned at the assessment, but he found that his brain had completely blanked on him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Damn concussion…</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sasha, why are you here?” he asked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sasha toyed with her hair. He recognized a kindred spirit in the gesture, as he often pulled on his own locks when trying to decide what to say or puzzle through a problem. Instead of his usual panic at the rather unprofessional and frankly vulnerable situation he was in, Jon only felt calm, normal even. It was a nice feeling, finding some of himself in someone else. He felt less outside of it all, when he could feel like he still did things normal people did, too. After another moment, she let go of her hair and squared her shoulders.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I— I am concerned about work,” she said finally, shamefaced. That feeling of being out of his depth came back with avengence. Sasha was worrying about work because he managed to end up in the hospital on day one.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What exactly concerns you? You are the perfect candidate! This should have been your job in the first place,” Jon blurted, trying to preempt her complaints, before he winced at how harsh he sounded. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She grimaced before softly saying. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That right there,” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon blinked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe, you should sit and explain what you mean,” Jon sighed. Sasha seemed to relax a little and quickly brought the plastic chair closer to his bed, before sitting down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have a question for you. Please, be honest,” Sasha pleaded as she looked him in the eyes. Jon felt his stomach clench as uncertainty wrapped itself around his insides and squeezed. He shakily nodded. Sasha’s face shifted from one of nerves to one of concern. “Wait, I knew this was a bad idea. You need your rest… I shouldn’t be getting to satisfy my own—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, no! I’m fine…  just ask your question!” Jon huffed. Sasha seemed to rally after that, smiling a little. Slowly, the smile dimmed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did you— did you really want the job?” she finally blurted as she played with her hands. Jon gaped at the blunt question. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s just… you never showed any interest in the position! </span>
  <em>
    <span>He</span>
  </em>
  <span> knew I was looking to get into the Archives. Then when G— she was without assistants before— before her disappearance… I applied for an assistant position, nothing! I don’t understand…” she rambled. Jon found himself at loss. He was not surprised that Sasha had questions about how things went down with the job. But he </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>surprised that she had noticed his discomfort with the situation. Jon didn’t think people paid enough attention to him to notice. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well… no, not really,” he admitted. She made a noise of sympathy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I thought so, you’ve looked so uncomfortable,” she said. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s an understatement,” Jon snorted, wincing at the pull in his chest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This is insane,” Sasha sighed. Jon frowned.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I am not sure I follow,” he admitted. Sasha started to pull at her hair again as she continued,</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why put me in the position now? He told me to my face that he wanted to go in a different direction! Wanted someone with a “fresh”, no offense, perspective.” She airquoted the word fresh. A sliver of amusement ran through him at the rather sassy gesture from the usually professional Sasha James. It seemed like something Tim would do. However, hearing the similar rationale falling from her lips made him feel vindicated in his belief that it was weird that Elias reversed course so quickly after his hospitalization.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He told me the same when I offered you up when the job discussion first started.” he said. Sasha let go of her hair as she scooted closer to the edge of her seat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You… recommended me?” she asked. Jon nodded. Her touched expression weighed on him so he turned to the ceiling as he spoke, resolutely ignoring the growing flush on his face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, uh, yes. You were the only one that made sense. I had heard that you worked with Gertrude before. I also know of your Information Science degree courtesy of Tim’s gossiping. It made the most sense. Besides I had overheard your complaints about being rejected from the Archives before… so, yeah.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, well, I— thank you, Jon,” She said thickly. “I appreciate your honesty while being here, I mean.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course. Funny enough, I was thinking about the same thing when you came in… Why not Tim, if he was so concerned about a new direction? He has no idea how long I would be in here.” Jon pointed out. He looked back at Sasha to see her staring pensively at her skirt, brow furrowed. Jon was struck again by a feeling of familiarity. Someone from uni…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, that is weird. But it’s not like nothing in the Institute is ever normal. Elias’s own elevation to Head of the Institute was strange. I have no clue what game he is playing but I want no part of it.” Sasha muttered as she met his eyes again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon nodded, yawning softly to avoid aggravating his ribs. A thought occurred to him, and once again his mouth ran away from him before he could catch it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I feel the same, but can you be honest with me in return?” Maybe he could get some answers of his own. Sasha nodded, sitting straighter. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you know anything about what happened to me, exactly? I know they said I was found collapsed, but they won’t tell me anything else,” Jon explained. “My own memory is faulty and it’s driving me mad honestly.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If I were in your shoes, I would be concerned, too. Based on what I got from— your grandmother… I am assuming, the doctors are pretty baffled. Although, it’s not so weird when you take into account what you said in the ambulance— ” she trailed, turning pensive.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> I say?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“According to Tim, you claimed that someone attacked you. But when we checked with Roise, there had been no one in the room with you when they found you. She and Martin came .in at the same time so it couldn’t’ve been him. But no one came out of the door either, or they would have seen them. As far as I know, there is only one way in and out of the Archives.” Her voice trailed off, as though trying to confirm her suspicions of an airtight Archive.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once again, there was that crushing sensation of certainty: he had been attacked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the hazy aftermath, he must have been </span>
  <em>
    <span>sure</span>
  </em>
  <span> of that. That would have been the only reason he would dare to say something so ridiculous. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I believe I recall some glimpses of what happened, but I still can’t make heads or tails of it all. However, that still doesn’t explain why everyone else is so baffled and why I’m so sore.” he complained. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sasha winced and shrunk in her seat. She began gnawing at her lower lip. She seemed to be debating something before nodding to herself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, they are leaning towards an attack, because of the bruising…” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Around your neck… and down your arms...”  she whispered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon looked down at his arms, noting the reddish purple blotches that dotted his skin. He then felt up around his neck, though he tried not to press too hard as his skin still felt raw in a strange way. How had he missed this before? He shook his head, he would worry about that later.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“According to— maybe I overheard the doctors talking...? Anyway, the doctors are baffled because you came in with marks on you, and then a raging fever, though the fever broke almost as soon as they applied ice; they gave you a fever reducer just in case. But they couldn’t explain the bruising around your throat it clustered together into something that vaguely resembled ‘hands’, or at least ligature marks.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah, I see. I haven’t had the chance to look in the mirror lately,” he muttered wrily. She snorted. He was also certain that the concussion played some role in his decreased bodily awareness. That certainty of the attack on his person was definitely being held as a fact in his mind now. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> been attacked and he desperately needed to remember who did it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I suppose you haven’t,” Jon tried to hide another yawn but Sasha gave him a knowing look. “Suppose I should go, then, it’s late and you still need more sleep. Your grandmother’ ll try to take my head if I kill you by not letting you rest.  I’ve probably overstayed my welcome anyway.” She started to stand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sasha, wait… uh, thank you. For answering my questions,” Jon said stiffly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She looked startled as she sat back into the chair.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I— no! I woke you up to ease my own worries! There is no reason to thank me, Jon.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was already awake. Besides, you alleviated some of my own worries! I-I wasn’t sure how you felt about me taking the job in the first place, I knew you deserved it more than me. And.. I know we didn’t talk much.” Jon admitted. “It surprised me that you noticed I was uncomfortable in the first place.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The surprise had been that anyone had been paying him any attention at all. He had spent the last several years after uni trying to forget what had happened. Finding a corner to vanish into was all but second nature to him by now. The fact that someone was still watching him, in spite of his wallflower tendencies, well… </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sasha played with her hands in her lap again. He was forcibly reminded of the fact that he, Tim, and Sasha all liked to talk with their hands. Jon found himself marveling at the fact that he knew some things about his coworkers, just as they knew things about him, even if he wasn’t looking for them. Evidently, Sasha had been making some observations as well, and suddenly Jon wondered what Tim had noticed. Or what he had yet to learn about Martin, the mysterious new transfer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sasha’s hands patting her skirt brought his wandering mind back to her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I mean, I just noticed you were never really fond of Elias, and when he kept calling you to his office. You seemed so stressed when you would come back. Of course, after it was announced that you took the position… you looked so tired, resigned.” Her voice had started off soft and hesitant but got stronger as she spoke. Jon had found himself stunned into silence. He and Sasha had never really spoken much, but from the few interactions they did have, they had the same keen intellect. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had a feeling that she could match him much like Basira could. Suddenly, the thought made him realize who Sasha had been reminding him of. Basira… he hadn’t thought of her in years, someone he had been so close to back then. He could see the two women getting along quite well, but that would never happen now. He sighed, after all that was a bridge that was burnt long ago, no use dwelling on what ifs. He had enough on his mind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I— well, yes,” Jon stammered. “But I know you will do a great job. I just wish it was under better circumstances. But really it’s late. I can’t believe they even let you back here.” Jon said, suddenly recalling that visiting hours must be long over. Sasha’s round cheeks colored and she studied her lap as her hand came to tug at her hair again. For a moment Jon thought she was going to add something else, but when Sasha looked up, she was grinning cheekily at him from under her bangs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>“Well, Tim is not the only one that can talk his way into places he shouldn’t be...” she</span> <span>teased. </span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon gaped at her but found himself laughing soon enough. So, Sasha had a bit of a fire in her after all?</span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>“It seems there’s a lot more to you than I thought,” Jon replied. “I would like to talk more, if we get the chance.” He was surprised by the sincerity of the wish, but seeing the delighted look on her face, stilled him. Perhaps, it would be advantageous to</span> <span>cultivate a workable relationship with her.   </span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You as well, it seems,” Sasha replied. “Honestly, the only person you ever seemed to interact with was Tim. I am still floored that you even favored me for the job. I thought you didn’t really like anyone else.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon huffed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>know </span>
  </em>
  <span>how Tim is, he won’t leave well enough alone until everyone knows his thoughts and what not. You know Tim whether you really want to or not.” Jon stated. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sasha finally laughed outright. She quickly covered her mouth, as though feeling guilty at laughing at Tim’s expense, but he could still hear her happy peals of amusement through the muffling. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have to say that I cannot argue against any of your points, Mr. Sims,” she stated primly as she lowered her hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon smirked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course, you can’t! I think you’ll find, Ms. James, that I am never wrong,” he sniffed before his lips twitched into a soft grin. Sasha rolled her eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“In your dreams, Mr. Sims.” she retorted. Jon finally hiccupped a laugh, and continued smiling despite the pain in his chest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jokes aside… I do have another question for you…” he said.  “Just how did you manage to get back here?” The mischievous glint her eyes brightened. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, I overheard a conversation when I was leaving the other day. One of the male nurses that was coming on shift raised quite a fuss about having to see to you. I was about to give him a piece of my mind. I thought it was race related, ya know. But then he said, ‘I barely avoided being sectioned because of that damned dog bite… I sure as hell ain’t fucking around with that damned Institute… everybody has been talking..’ The supervisor went pale and granted his request just to get him to shut up.” She explained, tone quiet while her hands danced out the excitement that she was barely keeping to herself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon attempted to shuffle into a more upright position at that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What the hell does that mean?” he asked, the same quiet excitement humming through him. Despite his outward skepticism about the Institute, he did know and</span>
  <em>
    <span> begrudgingly</span>
  </em>
  <span> accept that there were supernatural phenomena in the world. He just felt most people’s experiences were just bad encounters and drunken ramblings. However, this was the first time he had concrete evidence that other people, </span>
  <em>
    <span>important </span>
  </em>
  <span>people knew it, too.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This thought alone was sending Jon’s mind racing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Was the Institute part of it? This web of secrecy? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Did Gertrude die because of it?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know, Jon. But it’s weird, in’it? Most people think the Institute and those that work there are cracked! We’re a joke… but the hospital, the hospital of all places… takes it very seriously.” Sasha muttered. “But then again, Artefact Storage…” Jon frowned as Sasha trailed off again, her demeanor becoming closed as she retreated to her memories, clearly looking for something. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Artefact storage?” he parroted. He had heard stories about the place, but never had reason to go down there. Jon had always put it down to a sort of thematic office joke. The Magnus Institute was strange and dealt with the supernatural but most of what they had was statements of easily frightened people and some creepy looking furniture and decorations. Jon paused at the usual cutting mental digs that he would make. Wasn’t the previous conversation about being honest? So, if Jon were being </span>
  <em>
    <span>honest</span>
  </em>
  <span> about the situation, clearly there was something very odd happening at the Institute and their boss was starting to look like some Machiavellian owner of a haunted building that they were currently employed at. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Good Lord.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p><span>“Oh! Right… um</span> <span>Artefact Storage has a lot of weird things in it. Thankfully, nothing happened to anyone while I was there but there was something about— something about the person I replaced and a painting? Somebody lost fingers to a book on the night security shift. HR claimed it was a collapsing shelf. They swore it was the book… I think there was something about the same book being burned. Anyway, the point I had was that it was weird that only certain spots were considered suspect by the workers themselves. while people outside of it think the whole place is weird at best and laughable at worse.” Sasha muttered to herself. </span></p><p> </p><p><span>Jon laid back down, thinking. Sasha had a point. The two places anyone avoided at all costs, were the Archives and Artefact Storage. Given that eventually everyone that worked for the Archives either vanished and/or was presumed dead and apparently people lost digits and vanished from Artefact Storage as well… people’s paranoia was well founded. </span><em><span>Of course it is, after all you know how dangerous even a </span></em><b><em>book</em></b><em><span> can be. </span></em><span>For</span> <span>once, in a very long time, Jon found himself taking stock of where he was in his life.</span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Why was he even at the Institute? What was he looking for?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You look a bit lost, Jon,” Sasha said softly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I am just wondering exactly what I am doing at the Institute…” Sasha gave an anemic laugh at that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’m having second thoughts, myself,” she admitted. Jon gave a weak chuckle, but his commentary was cut off by yet another yawn. A dull ache had started behind his ribs and the insistent drilling in his temple had increased.  “Alright, I can see you need rest and I should get out of here as well. My co-conspirator’s patience must be wearing thin. I am going to do my best in your absence, we should do our best to keep Elias complacent. At least, until it’s no longer useful.” She stood and stretched. Suddenly, the late hour hit Jon like a train, and took his heart with it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you have a car?” he asked suddenly. Sasha shook her head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nah, I usually take the train. It’s no big,” she said easily. “I… need to walk anyway.” Jon could feel the self deprecation in the remark. It sounded too close to his own. That was something he would not wish to share with anyone. He was not unaware of the pressure of looks in society. But in his mind, Sasha was not a bad looking woman, she was tall and sturdy. Her hair was neat and her glasses gave her a distinguished look. The extra weight just made her look soft and approachable, much like Martin. He wanted to reassure her but was not quite sure how to go about it, or if he even had the right to try. But that concern quickly lost out to the screaming part of him that was demanding that Sasha </span>
  <em>
    <span>not walk</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You really should take a cab, it’s late.” Jon pushed. Sasha frowned.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but cabs are expensive. The area is well lit and the station’s not too far.” she argued. Jon shook his head and then winced as his vision swam and his skull throbbed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, no. It’s not safe. Take the cab, I— I will get Georgie to pay you back. Just, it's not safe.” he pleaded. Sasha’s face softened. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ok, I’ll take the cab. No need to have someone pay me back. You just promise me to get some rest and not give the doctors too hard of a time.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just be careful,” Jon huffed in offense. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Will do,” she chuckled as she turned to leave. Jon watched her slide out the door, the click of the latch final as he was left alone with his thoughts. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon found himself riddled with more questions than he could begin to answer or even think about. But the one that was standing out the most to him was what did being sectioned actually mean? There were so many questions tied to that alone. But despite the mystery laid before him, it was the confirmed certainty eating at the back of his skull that finally drew his attention. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> been attacked but he was still unsure of who or even what had done so. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The need to know everything was slowly gnawing at his sanity. It felt like if he pushed just enough, he could force himself to remember. After all, he remembered every face from his first attack. Why should this one be any different? As he reached inside his mind for the answers he was desperate for, something within his mind </span>
  <em>
    <span>opened.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He regretted it immediately. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sasha is not in London anymore...</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello! First, sorry for the delay! This chapter fought me the whole way and then decided it was going to be a chunky one. I had to split it! Chapter 5 will be up next week! Hopefully 6 will be out the week after that! Thank you so much for the kudos and comments! Please keep them coming! Thank you <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Altered_Karma/pseuds/Altered_Karma">Altered Karma</a> for betaing for me!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Sasha released the doorknob. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The conversation had not gone nearly as bad as she had feared it would. Jon was actually quite receptive to her concerns. He also had fought for her to get the job, but had been ignored by Elias. That definitely made more than enough sense to her. The male nurse that she had guilted into letting her see Jon was casting glares at her in between nervously looking for his supervisors. She decided to take some pity on him and started to make her way out of the ward. She was about to open the door, when it was pulled from under her fingers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Another nurse stopped short as she nearly walked into Sasha. They blinked at one another as Sasha took several steps back as the nurse entered the ward. Suddenly, Sasha’s vision tilted and Sasha found herself stumbling back a few more steps. Sasha shook her head, briefly wondering what that had been about. Maybe she should take that cab that Jon suggested. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh! Hello! Did you need help? Were you overnighting with a patient?” she asked nervously. Sasha blinked. Before she could formulate a decent response, the male nurse spoke up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good! She’s your problem now, Ley!” Sasha turned in time to see the man scramble from ward through an exit on the other side of it. It snapped closed and the whirring of the electronic locking mechanism nearly drowned out the young woman’s nervous call for her attention. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her eyes snapped back to the female nurse as her heart pounded. The nurse’s eyes pinned her in place. They seemed all too wide, staring at Sasha, pulling all of her secrets from her like twin blackholes. She was suddenly dreading that she had been set up. That the nurse </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> she shouldn’t be back here. Was she going to be arrested? Was she being kept here for that very purpose? Had the other nurse called for her and that was what he had been waiting for? There!  Sasha’s eyes locked on to something moving in her peripheral just to the left of the nurse. Nothing. There was nothing there but she could have swore that she had seen something move.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>vvvvvvvvvVVVVVRRRRRKACK! </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Both women flailed as the sound of the second electronic lock reverberated around the empty ward. The nurse he had called Ley, whirled around to stare back at the door. Sasha really couldn’t pay attention anymore to what the nurse was doing than that as she was suddenly too aware of the cameras— all the eyes that must be staring her down at the moment. They bore down on her neck and shoulders, making her long to cover herself. Ha! As if she could cover all of her imperfections with her all too human hands. She sank to her knees and tried to bury her head between them, her hands pressed against her ears and her  eyes squeezed shut. She felt the pressure of the stares fluctuate as if they were laughing at her feeble attempts to hide from them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, all at once they pressed in on Sasha, squeezing the air from her lungs just as quickly as the pressure was taking its place. Sasha gagged on it, tears rapidly pooling and spilling from her eyes. The presence seemed to grow agitated as it scrounged around inside her. What was it looking for? Insecurities and the horrid memories associated with them flashed through her mind. It lingered on her memories of the Institute specifically. It felt like it slowed them down in order to scrutinize each one, leaving her to suffer through the agonizing feelings of self consciousness, embarrassment, uselessness, failure, anxiety, fear on and on and on. Suddenly, it focused on all of her fleeting memories of Jon specifically.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jon!!!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It dawned on Sasha then. It was looking for Jon. Was </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> what attacked him? Sasha shivered all the way down to her toes. It kept pulling at the memories and Sasha instinctually began pulling them back to herself, trying to hide them away. The thing pushed harder, seemingly snarling at her defiance. Why did it even need her memories?! He was in this very hospital with this creature— whatever it was? Why did it need her? The creature latched on to the question and pushed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hidden… being hidden! Where? I </span>
  </em>
  <span>Know</span>
  <em>
    <span> the Archivist is here! Stop hiding him!</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sasha screamed as it felt like her head was being drilled into. Her feeble attempts to rebel quickly withered away, but the pain did not abate. If anything it increased. The memories whizzed by. Suddenly, it stopped on the memory of coming by the hospital earlier today. The memory filled her senses. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sasha looked around dazed at the room that she had just left. But it was different, there was no Jon. The bed itself was empty and neatly made. Sitting on it was a woman about her age with silver hair that stopped at her ears. She wore a black turtleneck and a black denim skirt that stopped at her ankles.There were two equally silver scars on her ankles. But it was her grey eyed stare that pulled all of Sasha’s attention. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Those eyes seemed washed out, like they weren’t supposed to be that color... as if she looked hard enough, she might get a hint of what color they were supposed to be. But the color faded in and out slightly like spots dancing in front of her eyes. They were nothing at all like Jon’s lichen colored eyes. The soft pale green that drew your attention unintentionally. Her hair and skin much the same, far too pale as if the color had been drained from them. Her skin a stark white, her lips almost translucent.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The look on her face was one of cold defiance. She seemed to be staring through Sasha rather than at her. But her eyes felt nothing like the eyes that were still roving under her skin continuing to take her measure cell by cell. The eyes seemed to speak again, sounding like a collection of buzzing tones. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Daughter of Terminus! Where are you hiding the Archivist?! </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where you can not See or Know him, Hungry One,” she spoke softly. The eyes screamed in rage.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You truly believe that the Veil will dull my Sight?!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I can and will know Death itself, if it means the Archivist truly dies! </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The pressure increased tenfold. Sasha's head felt like it was going to cave in on itself. She could feel her skull buckling under the weight of it all. It hurt so much. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sasha James! </span>
  </em>
  <span>A voice called. Not the ephemeral voice of the eyes, a human voice. It sounded so far away. Her name echoed again. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Close your eyes! Block its sight! </span>
  </em>
  <span>Sasha wanted to yell back about how futile it was to hide from the eyes. Closing her eyes would do nothing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yes it will, girl! </span>
  </em>
  <span>Chided the voice. It sounded closer now. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You fought for that job to the bitter end. Don’t give up when your life's on the line! </span>
  </em>
  <span>Sasha felt shock still through her. That sounded like… that sounded </span>
  <em>
    <span>like</span>
  </em>
  <span>— </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Gertrude?” she whispered, the name brittle on her tongue, crashing to pieces against the silence in the room, her breath an ethereal vapor that vanished into the expanse of the room. She made a mental note of how strange it was to see her own breathing or that she had not been doing so in the first place. It was then that she noticed the drop in temperature, goosebumps crawling across her flesh, a chilling counterpoint to the eyes she could still feel under her skin. The competing sensations made Sasha want to claw her own flesh from her bones to escape them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sasha! Close your eyes! Block its sight! </span>
  </em>
  <span>Gertrude commanded. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s futile! It’s in me! </span>
  </em>
  <span>Sasha cried.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You are letting the fear win! If you can’t throw off that fear then find a worse one! </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Find a worse— </span>
  </em>
  <span>Sasha’s thoughts ground to halt as a blast of cold air stole the breath from her lungs. The icy atmosphere burned her skin and turned her muscles to petrified chucks of ice. Each shuddering breath burned on its way down into her lungs, her throat being stripped raw with each pass. The bed sighed in relief as the woman stood slowly. Her eyes were still boring into Sasha as if she were locked in a staring contest with the eyes underneath her skin. It was easy to see that the current temperature change was affecting her as well. Her skin was now transparent, the veins and arteries underneath it clearly on display. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The scars still remain prominent on her ankles, the only bits of opaque skin left. Sasha’s mind decided to remind her that during the embalming process, blood can be flushed from a body through incisions in the femoral vein or on the inside of the foot or </span>
  <em>
    <span>ankle</span>
  </em>
  <span>... </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bile rose in her throat at that thought, she now realized what bothered her about the woman. She reminded Sasha of a corpse that had been readied for burial. The black clothing. The scars… the too pale skin. The sunken lips. She was as close to a zombie as one could be without decaying and hunting for flesh. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sasha found herself musing on the irony of the situation despite her terror.  </span>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Eyes wanted Jon dead, the woman— corpse? — was hiding him for some reason. Sasha knew that despite whatever the reasoning was for either of the two monsters, beings… whatever they were… she needed to get out of the room. She needed to find Jon and get out of the building. He was probably well enough to move or at least be supported. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She turned around to run for the door that should be behind her but it was not there. There was nothing but a wall. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was going to die and there was nothing she could do to stop it. After all, for there to be life there must also be death. She knew it like she knew her own name. It was a fact. Her heart was once more drumming against her ribs. She slowly turned to see the room dotted with shadowy eyes with bright green pupils   </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>They seemed to be multiplying. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sasha started to buckle under the presence of them once more, the room starting to spin. No, the room wasn’t spinning… the eyes were </span>
  <em>
    <span>moving. </span>
  </em>
  <span>They were slowly circling the bed in a counter— no, clockwise… Sasha’s head began to pound again. The eyes' undulating and spiraling motions made her ill. Her ears were full of the buzzing static of their voices. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We that Behold All demand the Archivist, Terminus! Begone with your wretched child! </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I refuse to let you have him!” the woman said, voice ringing with finality like the last calls of a church bell. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sasha gagged as the eyes’ agitation in her flesh became more frenzied, it felt like there were so many now that she was choking on them. They had filled every inch of her. Suddenly, they all shifted as one, seeming to focus on the same thing, even the eyes about the room. They were all bearing down on the woman in the center. The static grew louder and pressure within her increased, something grotesque crawled up her throat and Sasha heaved. Spewing chunks of static and words into the air. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We SEE you Georgianna Barker!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We SEE who you were!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What you are and what you will remain!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A miserable scavenger of people’s regrets </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A bottom feeder of what people leave behind!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The words poured from Sasha’s lips, scalding poison of the emotional kind. While the woman… Georgianna? showed no fear, there was something sharp in her gaze. A jagged crack in her stony façade. Sasha wondered if the woman could see the terror streaming from her own eyes?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You may not fear us but you know we speak true. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You who chose to serve the End rather than face it!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You truly think you can save them, Georgie?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That is what he called you, wasn’t it? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Georgie or G when you were trying to sound mysterious around his friends…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span> They called for you…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Did you know that?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>When they were done beating them… </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They called for all of you… </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>no one came.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sasha felt sick at that knowledge. Jon, whose shadow had more presence than he did, had survived an attack that had almost killed him. The little things about Jon that she had found odd, now made so much sense. How frail he looked. How he made himself even smaller when there was too much going, staying to himself, hesitant and shy in his interactions. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oh! </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His pleading made far more sense to Sasha now. He had been alone at night and had been attacked. He had been </span>
  <em>
    <span>alone </span>
  </em>
  <span>in the Archives and had ended up in the hospital. He had been worried about her safety. Little did he know that the danger had followed him here. His pleading echoed in her head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“No, no. It’s not safe. Take the cab, I— I will get Georgie to pay you back. Just, it's not safe.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Did Jon— had he known the corpse woman— Georgie? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Did he know what she was? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Had the Eyes attacked him like they had Sasha? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One by one, like the steady increase of raindrops during a storm, questions cluttered her mind. Building and building until all she could hear was the roar of them rattling against her skull like thunder. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She wanted to scream but what came out was— </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Give.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Them.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>To.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>UUUUUSSSSSS.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, a booming crack rented the air and Jon appeared. His body was twisting and jerking in ways that reminded Sasha of the many horror movies that she and Tim would watch. It was horrifying and painful to watch, but that was all she could do was… watch. The eyes glowing brighter and brighter, the eerie light falling on the writhing form on the bed like spotlights. Jon had begun foaming at the mouth, an awful wet sound that made bile rise up in her own throat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No!” cried Georgie as she stumbled to her feet. Her nose was dripping blood as she stumbled to the bed and latched on to Jon. Sasha continued to watch as Georgie continued to fight a battle of wills against the eyes that were scalding every mortal with their gaze. A deep chill began to radiate from the bed, sweeping over everything. Sasha felt more goosebumps materialize along her arms. A frigid wind kicked up in the room from seemingly nowhere. Eventually, she was forced to close her eyes against the onslaught. The howling of the wind reached a crescendo as her skin ached from the cold. Then all at once it died.  </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Sasha blinked and then startled. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That had been the first movement that she had been able to make on her own in what seemed to be forever. The room now contained strange shadows along with the remaining eyes and Jon’s crumpled form. Georgie was standing guard over the bed once more. Staring down the eyes with her own frigid ones.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her voice was once again measured and steady. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They do not Belong to You. There were Others that Marked them before You…” she intoned. The eyes screamed in rage, the static in the air turning sharp. Georgie pulled herself up to her full height and glared at the eyes. Sasha tried to stumble away from the scene, trying to run but was all too quickly reminded that she had nowhere to run when she nearly ran into another wall. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This one is so frightened that she is willing to run away, abandoning someone that stood up for her… pleaded for her to be safe… ”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sasha froze, before slowly turning back to the spectacle around Jon’s bed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Admit it… you’re scared. That’s ok. Nothing is wrong with being afraid. After all, we wouldn’t survive without it…” The eyes crooned. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a sharp burst of static, followed by, </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t that right, Georgie?” Sasha’s eyes were drawn to the bed, Jon was staring at the ceiling, eyes glowing a bright green. She hadn’t seen his lips move but she had heard his voice. Those last few words. They were definitely Jon’s voice. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her heart sank.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The eyes had possessed Jon now, much like they had possessed her. She could still feel the phantom like echoes of the eyes roving under her skin. Even with that, she would rather have them still in her skin than tormenting poor Jon more. Georgie was now glaring at the glowing eyes in Jon’s face.    </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s almost scary how you become accustomed to things. Things that used to scare you become background noise. It’s how we all become complacent in some of the greatest sins— no, sins are too small a word. Atrocities! Yes, that is a better word. It was how we became accustomed to the greatest atrocities that the world had ever seen. We will continue to do so, because people are far too good at ritualistic habitualization. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That sort of acclimation is dangerous to people. I learned that the hard way…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-I, uh, don’t remember the name of the pub anymore. Honestly, I haven’t set foot in a pub or bar since the incident. I-I don’t walk anywhere after dark anymore. No public transport. There’s— there’s no way to know… Sometimes, I wouldn’t leave the Institute… when it was too dark and I would feel it— breathing it’s chilly breath on the b-back of my neck. I would stay on the nights it was haunting— no… </span>
  <em>
    <span>hunting </span>
  </em>
  <span>me. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was supposed to die, you know?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was ‘an abomination and not fit for society’... they were going to make sure I did. For the good of society, of course! Ha!”  The last sound was a sob more than a laugh. Sasha felt tears spill down her face at last. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But I am sure that is not what you want to know…</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“What you want to know is why I deserved to die? Why the Death I eluded still hunted me?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Like I said, I don’t really remember the pub name. But that pub ended my life as I knew it…” Jon continued, low and pained. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Stop! Your useless forced voyeurism will not change anything. Terminus has already Marked this one, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>Know it.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Georgie’s own voice was wrapped in something cold and ancient. The glow of Jon’s eyes intensified and Sasha thought she heard him whimper.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We had managed to pull off a good show… the audience had been confused a bit… confused at first but  by the second song, they were all in. It was amazing. There is a sort of euphoria that comes from performing, you know? That sort of ‘I did it! I put myself out there and didn’t crash!’. Maybe… maybe that was what my downfall was. Ama always did say I liked to push my luck.” He choked out. He gasped and arched off of the bed, the green glow disappearing behind clenched eyelids. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s happening?” Sasha choked out and then jumped at the sound of her own voice. She could speak now. She could still feel them under her skin, quivering. She looked at the woman that had been trying to hide Jon— somehow. She looked just as shocked as Sasha.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I— I don’t know? Jon?” called the woman. Jon groaned in response. Was— was Jon fighting it?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jon,” Sasha called out as well, feeling the edges of something like hope. Jon’s eyelids fluttered, but his body relaxed, slumping back onto the bed. He began to speak again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was planning to— to— urgh,” Jon seemed to choke on his own tongue. “I shouldn’t have stayed dressed that way— get— I knew—</span>
  <em>
    <span> leave</span>
  </em>
  <span>— I— I— I went out to— to get a cigarette— f-from— </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck you!</span>
  </em>
  <span> — store— </span>
  <em>
    <span>get OUT</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” Sasha could feel the static in the room picking up again. It made the hair on her arms and the back of her neck stand up. How could she help, suddenly entered her mind. She could move, she was nowhere near as injured. She could be useful, she would be useful! What— what had Gertrude said? Find a larger fear…? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What did she fear most at this moment? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dying.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jon, dying while she was helpless to do anything other than watch. That is what frightened her most right now.  Then once it was finished with him it would turn its horrible power on her again. Georgie gasped. She was now covered by a  grayish haze. It thickened into a billowing cloud that broke into three sections before Sasha’s eyes. Two of the clouds shot over to Jon’s bed and began to circle it like a protective barrier. The third came and hovered around her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>See, they feed on specific fears… when you are not afraid of them… they lose their hold on you</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Gertrude’s voice whispered. The smoke coalesced into the familiar silhouette of Gertrude Robinson. Then it slowly filled in like someone adjusting the color on a television set, suddenly she was there. Her white hair pulled back in an easy ponytail, the blue sweater she had seen her in last along with the simple pants and tennis shoes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gertrude had always been such a contradiction. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her serious and often bordering callous demeanor was always hidden behind the rather casual dress code she wore. You would easily mistake her for one of those power walking grannies trying to keep their health up. But Gertrude was hard and shrewd and those that knew her knew you didn’t cross her lightly. Maybe that was also why Elias was giving her such a hard time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re gone— dead, I mean…” Sasha found herself blurting. Gertrude nodded, solemn as always. Sasha had figured that her sometimes mentor had died, but it still was a punch to the gut to hear, especially from Gertrude herself… somewhat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>But you need to pay attention to the living now, Sasha... they’re weakened somewhat. We have to take advantage of that while we can. I am not sure exactly what’s going on between Elias and the Eye… but it's big. Right now, we need to get you out</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” she said urgently. Panic spiked in Sasha’s chest, driving away all the questions that had sprung up in her mind at Gertrude’s words.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“B-but what about Jon?” Sasha whispered, afraid if she spoke any louder it would break the stalemate that seemed to be happening between the spectres hovering about Jon, the corpse and the eyes that wanted him gone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>He has an avatar of The End on his side and there are few fears that can take The End on, if any. After all, even the other Fears fear The End. He will be fine from the Eye… as for everything else…</span>
  </em>
  <span>” she gave a shrug. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shrugging doesn’t help me understand, Gertrude,” Sasha pleaded as she stole another glance at the drama playing out behind Gertrude’s semi transparent form. She gasped as the eyes seemed to meld together. It turned into a heaving mass of vomit green light that streaked towards the body on the bed. The two circling gray spirits broke out of their spiral as one slammed into the green mass. The mass broke in two pieces, barely held together by a thick band of sick green light and the gray streaks circled them rapidly, slowly pulling them further apart from one another. The band of light was stretched taunt. The static noise increased in volume and pitch, Sasha could have sworn it sounded like a scream. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I am only going to ask once more, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Visoris</span>
  </em>
  <span>… leave. This one has been twice Marked before you. Terminus’s claim is stronger.” Georgie spoke again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>We will end the Archivist or die trying,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>They screamed. Sasha’s insides started to burn. The pressure in the room returned with a vengeance. Sasha stumbled back into the nearest wall. The contact snapped her out of the pain induced fog she was stuck in and brought her focus back to the room. The entities were still fighting against one another. The mass of eyes trying to break free of the gray prisons they were stuck in. While the spectres bent and twisted as they poked and prodded at any tendril of viridian that tried to escape their hold. The green mass was pulsing and Georgie was now standing over Jon, her hands placed lightly on his chest. Her lips moving silently as in prayer.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Sasha, the door.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Gertrude suddenly whispered. She whipped her head to the right, looking to see that the little entry way that had vanished earlier behind a wall was back. She could leave. But she steeled her resolve as she looked back at Gertrude. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not leaving without Jon,” she said plainly. Gertrude heaved a sigh.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I told you, Jonathan will be fine, Bridgette. Now, you need to go. Fears like to work in secret. So, you need to find help… they may be more likely to leave with more minds in the area… or at least be distracted. You must get help if you really want to—</span>
  </em>
  <span>” The former Head Archivist gasped and suddenly was standing on the floor as solid as Sasha herself. She stared up at Sasha, face pale. “</span>
  <b>
    <em>You must leave now… there are two Fears focused on this room! I don’t know what will happen.</em>
  </b>
  <span>” Sasha’s mind was once again whirling with questions and panic. How did Gertrude know her first name? Why was she suddenly so alive? Why was her blouse turning purple? Wait…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Gertrude! You’re bleeding,” she choked out. Three blotches of blood were slowly staining the chest area of her sweater a dingy purple. The woman looked down and then back at her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That tends to happen when you get shot, now go!” But before Sasha can even decide what to do, there is a loud crack like thunder and two heavy thuds. Sasha looked to see that the mass of green was now caught in the vice of something black and </span>
  <em>
    <span>sharp. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It reminded her of a cage, if a cage was festooned with spikes. The Eyes were wailing in outrage. On the floor beneath that spectacle, lay two people. The woman was struggling to stand because her legs were twisted in inexplicable ways. The man on the other hand, his arms and legs worked fine, but his face had been mangled, like he had been through a blender. He was covered in deep lacerations and his clothing was ripped. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What had happened to them?</span>
  </em>
  <span> she wondered. He unerringly made his way to the fallen woman and picked her up. She leaned against him as she gazed up at the trapped mass with a satisfied smirk. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You will leave our baby, alone,</span>
  </em>
  <span>”  she intoned. Sasha noticed something dark trickling down the side of her mouth as she spoke. Wait… she looked back to the bed. Were these Jon’s parents? Sasha remembered then that it was Jon’s grandmother that came to the hospital. Jon was an orphan… </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have remained on the sidelines because there has been no need for me to interfere… after all, all things End. It was going to be mine regardless. But now, you have broken the accord, Visoris, and I am free to retaliate. After all, the Desolation and Slaughter have fought for far longer.” Georgie intoned, drawing everyone’s attention back to her. Her eyes are now dark voids. She was shrouded in a black cloak that was made of shadow. The cage now had a chain that seemed to vanish into the ceiling. “The Web may like to lay back and watch the chaos, but I do not.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The chain rattled and groaned.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The green mass heaving about in the cage below it like a cluster of angry bees as the cage swayed and rocked in agitation. Georgie held out her hands as if she was gripping something in midair. A plume of black smoke formed in between them, slowly morphing into the shape of a scythe. She then strode forward with heavy steps, bringing the weapon up above her head. Then it seemed between one blink and the next, the weapon swung forward and a large dark crescent of energy burst from it and sliced through the cage and the mass inside it. The green darkened to a sickly black before seeming to melt through the bars, and landing on the floor with a wet sound. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A horrible scream seemed to echo through everyone and everything, even the ghosts. Their forms melted away back into the amorphous smoke they started out as. The hospital began to rattle and shake. Thunder could be heard crashing in the distance. Sasha was pitched sideways, as the hospital continued to shake down to its very foundations. Thankfully there were no windows in this part of the building. But the cabinets were spilling open and all of the sheets, hospital gowns and various utensils and jars were falling and sliding to the floor. The crash of the multiple jars rang like tinny bells in counterpoint to the growling and howling of the disturbed building. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The building was swaying, and Sasha was terrified that it was going to come down on them. Suddenly, the roof shuddered and then seemed to rip itself apart slowly. A green glow started emanating from the fissure. It pulsed between green and gray over and over again. Georgie snarled a swear and swung the scythe at the fissure and more energy flew forward, pushing the intruding energy back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sasha! Get out of the building! I will make sure Jon’s ok. Alright?” Sasha frowned at that. In the midst of all the chaos going on around her, she was skeptical of such a thing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t—” she protested. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I promise. I cannot lie to you… that is not my domain. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>will</span>
  </em>
  <span> protect Jon this time.” Georgie said, solemn as the grave even as she cut Sasha’s declaration off. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>However, as Sasha peered into the woman’s eyes, she felt in her soul the truth of her words. So, she stumbled to her feet and made for the door. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As she reached for the knob,</span>
  <span> a peculiar and unsettling sound trembled in her ears. It strongly resembled the sound of something viscous being squished. The sound crawled across her shoulders and neck leaving a trail of chilled, slimy apprehension behind. In spite of everything she's learned in just the past few hours, everything she's come to know better about, her curiosity still drags her eyes over her shoulder. A scream tore its way out of her throat before she could really process what she was seeing.</span>
  <span> The liquified remains of the eyes that had ended up on the floor, were now slowly sliding across the floor towards her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Unable to take her eyes off of the mass sloshing across the floor and the flecks of dirt from the floor coating it in messy clumps, she scrambled blindly for the knob. Panic clawed at her throat like her desperate fingers clawed at the metal before she finally wretched the door open. She threw herself through the opening, tearing off down the hallway, even as the building continued to shudder and shake. She barely kept her footing, but soon her luck ran out as she turned a corner just as the building lurched violently, and she went tumbling to the ground—  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah!” she cried out, the air being forced from her lungs as she hit the linoleum. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No no. Get up! Get up! I can’t lay here… it’s coming! </span>
  </em>
  <span>She groaned as she finally pulled her shaking legs under her and stood up. She continued to lumber forward, trying not to leave too much weight on them. Her legs already felt like the creature looked, half pulverised mush. They clearly worked like they were, giving out after a few steps. Sasha finally resorted to crawling her way forward, wanting to continue moving. As her eyes darted about looking for a viable means of escape. The hall seemed to stretch beyond her, the door seeming to come no closer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Something dank and cold latched onto the back of her ankle. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She shrieked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A jolt of adrenaline shot through her body and suddenly she was clumsily back on her feet tripping forward. She literally fell around the next corner, but managed to stay on her feet this time. Her sides burned in time with spasming of her raw lungs and every step sent pain crackling through her body like lightning. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As she rounded another corner, she froze. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Where— how did I? There was not a cross stop before… I know there wasn’t…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But there before her was in fact a four way intersection. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Did I make a wrong turn? Shit…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> It was entirely possible given how panicked she was. The kicker was she knew that backtracking was likely to lead to her death. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ok, ok. So… which way. I could just keep going straight and hope I find a door? But it could easily lead to a dead end… taking a turn could also end the same way… ok, so taking a turn to the left could possibly lead me back the way I came at some point… that is definitely out. Going right could possibly lead in a new direction… I can’t stay here though!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>She continued to run, looking back to see the mass on her heels. Why won’t this stop… she tried to recall how long it had taken to get to Jon’s room when she had first come with Tim and Martin. It had not taken this long, nor had there been this many turns and hallways… </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Eyes…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Were they messing with her again?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Block its eyes...</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The words bounced around in her head as her body painfully continued to also bound along down a corridor that never seemed to end. How can she block the eyes of a paranormal horror— nightmare— abomination…</span>
  <em>
    <span> whatever</span>
  </em>
  <span>— </span>
  <em>
    <span>How</span>
  </em>
  <span> can she block it? Even as her body shuddered from exertion and terror in equal measure, she could still feel the eyes vacillating under her skin, behind her own eyes. What can she do? Closing her own eyes did absolutely nothing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Find something you fear more…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once again… the selfish thought bubbled up through her consciousness.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t want to die… not like this… </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She didn’t want to become a victim of the statements that were often given by those that were forced to bear witness to their demise. She foolishly squeezed her eyes shut to block the tears that burned them, when she realized that no one was around that could even give the statement. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She continued to run and run and run— </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, Sasha collided with another body. Both of them went sprawling. Sasha wasted no time and struggled to her feet. A quick glance behind revealed that she had run over the nurse from earlier. A wave of conflicting emotions swept over her, a nauseous wave of relief at finding another actual human being and the terror that someone else was trapped.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wha— ?” blurted the nurse as she slowly sat up. Sasha grabbed her arm, yanking her to her feet. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Something changed. I don’t know what changed but something did. I was alone and being chased. But now, the nurse is here… did I block the eyes after all?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Sasha remembered quite clearly how the battle in Jon’s room had shifted the moment that she had started fearing their deaths more than the eyes that were watching.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No… talk… being chased… gotta go.” she panted. The lights overhead were flickering in a way that promised a power failure in the near future. She'd be more surprised, honestly, if the hospital survived intact, after the horrific battle that was taking place within Jon’s room. The walls were still moaning and shuddering from the impact of the powers at play— whatever they were.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What are you talking about— ” the nurse attempted to ask, but Sasha cut her off,</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No time, keep moving,” she growled, her voice rough. Her chest was squeezing her lungs and all of the oxygen she managed to pull in was going to keeping her upright and mobile, so she had little voice with which to speak. She brightened immediately as she caught sight of a door at the end of the hallway.   </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She put as much of her flagging energy as she could into her legs for that final, desperate sprint. The horrible cacophony from behind her was drawing near, and she knew she wouldn’t have time to open the door gently, so she braced herself to ram the door at full charge. She burst through the door, swearing from the pain in her arm. Finally, she saw the atrium from before. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Thank God! </span>
  </em>
  <span>She did not stop running, closing distance to the heavy ward door in what felt like a blink of her eyes. The two women barreled through the door, nearly tripping over one another. The blinking of the lights had gotten worse by this point. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Stairs!” she barked at the shorter, bewildered woman beside her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wha— stairs?! I- to the left!” she babbled. Sasha made a hard left, the nurse nearly taking both of them down as she stumbled along behind her. “Is… it still… after us? Behind…” Sasha heaved. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I wish I had kept in better shape… at this rate, if the monster doesn’t kill me, my heart might give out!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is— ahhhh!!!” The scream was enough information for Sasha. She tracked the glowing signs that pointed towards the stairs— the only reliable things in the increasingly horrible light— as she towed the trembling woman behind her. They finally made it to the stairwell. She slammed against the door, swearing in pain and frustration when the door did not budge.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shit!” Sasha hissed, as she tugged futilely at the door. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It requires a key,” babbled Ley as she shoved Sasha aside, trying to swipe the ID down the reader. Sasha watched as the nurse continued to fail to put her id in correctly. The poor woman’s hands were shaking so bad, that she missed the scanner twice more. The third miss sent Sasha’s heart into her throat. In a fit of possible terror or frustration, Sasha was not sure, the nurse tore the id from her lanyard. She viciously swiped the card one last time and gave a cry at the sound of the heavy lock sliding out of the way. Both she and Sasha threw themselves through the door and down the stairs. Sasha could hear the sound of the living muck following them. They had wasted so much time! From the sound, it was more than likely on their heels now. Hopefully the stairs would help widen the gap again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sssssshhhhhhh...plick...plick...sluuush...</span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>splat</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Over and over again, trailing after them, were the sounds of the living horror that had chased them into the stairs. As they stumbled their way down another flight of stairs, a door banged open on the landing they were approaching. Sasha gasped as the sudden noise made her miss the last step and go careening into the concrete wall. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah!” She cried as the bones in her wrist ground together under her own weight, the only cushion she had to stop her face from meeting the wall. She felt bile rise up her throat but swallowed it down as she quickly turned to see who had come through the door. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The male nurse was back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sasha could spare no time to wonder why he turned up, as another noise from behind her caught her attention. She turned in time to see the mass push itself off the stairs, flying over the remaining steps. Sasha screamed as she ducked out of the way and headed for the door, nearly running the man over. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Marcus, run!” called the other nurse as Sasha barreled out the door. The man sputtered in outrage, briefly drowning out the sound of Ley’s feet clicking behind her. Sasha kept going. Whether or not he saved himself was not her main concern. It’s not like the man was a caring sort that she should feel bad for. After all, he refused to help Jon because of some stupid policy! As if to test her resolve, there was a sudden scuffle behind her, followed by a shout of,</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck is— oh, shit!” A blood curdling scream echoed around the empty hallway. Sasha’s blood ran cold. A wet gurgling sound swiftly cut off the man’s panicked cries. This was followed by a meaty thud. Sasha did not need to look behind her to know that whatever had been chasing them had gotten the other nurse— Marcus, his name had been Marcus. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“W-where’s the— ah!” The tremors still rocking the building made Sasha bite her tongue. She could taste blood as it pooled in her mouth. “ -amn it! Exit?” She tried again, wincing from both pain and the disgust of the blood dripping down her chin. The other nurse glanced around frantically. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I— I haven’t been in this part of the hospital before.” she whispered. Sasha bit back a groan of dismay. The two women decided following the doors was their best bet at finding an exit, as there were no signs that indicated where the nearest exit was. So Sasha yanked her along as their feet pounded along the linoleum. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The otherworldly thunder and screaming continued, making Sasha’s ears spike in agony. Her insides burned, her head throbbed still, the intensity of it rising and falling with the pitch of the screaming. It was sheer torture continuing to run. But she knew that finding a way out and getting to safety was paramount. The building had to end at some point. If she just kept going she could escape. It was the only logical conclusion she could come to in such a maddening situation.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Door after door.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sasha's arm felt like one big bruise and pain radiated from her wrists as she continued to slam open the barricades one after another; if she survived this she’d probably need a cast for her arm, too. But there seemed to be no end to them. More hallways, more wide open atriums, more nurses stations, but no people, no exit. Just an eternity of doors that lead nowhere, and hallways with no escape. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Over and over and over again, more doors. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sasha was beginning to truly panic, maybe she had finally snapped. Maybe, the situation had broken her perception of reality. But her mind quickly changed, when the final door they went through led them to a dead end. Sasha looked around wildly, but there were only doors. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fourteen to be exact. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading! I would love any comments! You can find me on Tumblr @<a href="https://www.tumblr.com/blog/ebonyphd">EbonyPhD</a>. I post direct links and info on my writing on my writer blog @<a href="https://www.tumblr.com/blog/wolfkeeper989">Wolfkeeper989</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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